Beast Shorts
by TWDGamerKenny'sBro
Summary: Two chapters covering two very different points in Beast's life. The first, looking into his reaction to the transformation after the dust had settled. The other taking place after he and Belle return from their trip to Paris, and his efforts to comfort her after she learned about the death of her mother. (These two chapters are completely unrelated but I paired them together.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - Hello all!**

 **I recently watched the Beauty and the Beast remake and I found the character of Beast and the portrayal of him really fascinating. At some point, I'd like to write a fanfic about him, going into his past, how he coped after the transformation and those 10 years (or how ever long it was in this movie) leading up to Belle's arrival at the castle. All of it will be told from his point of view, from a third person persepective, adding to scenes and missed oppurinties. I'd really like to expand upon his character.**

 **But for now, as its a big project to tackle, and I'm trying to work on another project and hopefully finish it, so I wrote these two shorts, to test the water, see if I was up to the task. And I hope and think that I am, so the project is definitely happening, so look forward to that... Whenever it may be.**

 **Will these two chapters end up in the story I eventually write? Most likely, in some shape or form, probably reworked to fit the story.**

 **This one is how he reacted after the transformation. The second one is what happened after he and Belle went to Paris. I thought it was a bit of a missed opportunity for Beast not to talk about his mother. Chapter 2 has a large amount of backstory condensed into it and won't be as intense when I write a full story, as his backstory will be spread across several chapters. I just thought it would be good for him to talk about his mother with Belle.**

 **I hope you enjoy them. And if you have any suggestions for other shorts or would like to see more, then just say the word! Let me know what you think.**

* * *

Darkness. A never ending void of black, created by his tightly closed eyelids.

He felt numb. He could barely feel anything, not his body, not the space around. Nothing.

Where was he? He remembered dancing with the young maidens and then... And then something happened. Why couldn't he remember?

His head hurt. At least he was starting to regain some feeling, slowly but surely. He opened his eyes, fluttering his eyelids briefly. His vision was blurred, the only thing he could see was a sort of... Greyness. He then came to realise that he was lying down, his face pressed against the cold, marble floor.

He must have collapsed. But why?

He pushed himself off the ground so that he was kneeling. Dazed and confused, he glanced around, noticing that he was still in the ballroom. The only difference was that it was absent of people, and the candles on the chandeliers had been snuffed out. His only source of light was the pale, silver moon that he could see through the windows.

A chill ran down his spine. The double doors behind his throne were wide open, allowing rain to pour in, and gusts of wind to blow in brown, autumn leaves.

Aside from the raging storm outside, the room was deathly silent.

The pain was what hit him first. The numbness faded, and he suddenly found himself in excruciating agony, and keeled over. His head throbbed, and every fibre of his being felt like it was on fire. It all started to come flooding back to him, the old woman, the rose, the beautiful enchantress and then...

There was something she had said to him, but at the time he hadn't been able to take it all in. Her angelic voice and words seemed to echo in his mind, but he couldn't make out what the words meant. They just sounded like a quiet, lingering whisper, which he couldn't focus on due to all of the pain he was experiencing.

He remembered experiencing the same amount of pain that same night, before he had passed out. But what he had gone through was much worse than what he was going through now. It had been agonising. In that moment, he had wished death upon himself, hoping that it would allow him to escape that hellish nightmare that had unfortunately been his reality.

The pain was starting to subside now. It had come in a short burst, and left as quick as it arrived. Perhaps it had just been an after affect of whatever the enchantress had done to him.

He felt off. Something was definitely wrong with him, but he couldn't figure out what, as he was still coming to his senses.

His head felt heavy, like there was an added weight that was keeping him from lifting it easily. He knew it couldn't be his powdered wig, so what was it?

He lifted his hand to touch the top of his head, but stopped himself halfway way when he caught sight of what should have been his hand. His blood ran cold. What he was looking at was a large paw, covered with thick, brown fur, and had long, sharp claws. He glanced at his other hand, or rather, other paw, only to see that it looked the same.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

The thick, brown fur that covered his paw ran up his arm. Worst of all, it didn't stop there, as once he looked down at himself, his fears were realised, as his entire body was covered in the same fur. He was starting to breath heavily now, taking quick, sharp intakes. He had become panic stricken.

Shreds of his clothing hung from his body, while other ripped pieces lay scattered around him. He quickly reached up, trying to avoid looking at his hand - he refused to call it a paw, he wouldn't allow himself to - this time round, and touched his wig, which was sitting skew-whiff on top of his head and threatening to fall off at any given time. That didn't make sense, that wig had been specially made for him and was designed to fit his head and his head alone.

He pulled it off and stared at it for a moment. Why did his head still feel so heavy?! What was going on?!

He dropped the wig and reached up again, his fingers coming into contact something that he could only assume was more fur, which seemed much longer, and ran down to the back of his neck. He then came into contact was something hard.

His eyes widened in shock as he allowed his fingers to trace the foreign object sticking out of his head. He reached up with his other hand and found another just like. Once he had figured out there shape, he soon knew what they were, but he didn't want to believe it.

He wrapped his hands around them both and yanked at them with all his might. It hurt him. He had hoped that by some miracle that they'd come off if he tugged hard enough, but no matter how much he pulled, they simply would not budge.

They were horns. He had horns, two massive horns... Growing out of his head.

This had to be a dream. Any second now, he'd wake up, and it will have all been a figment of his imagination. He refused to believe that any of it was real.

He slowly lowered his hands, trembling with fright as he stared at them. They were... They were paws. He couldn't deny that.

There was something else, something other than the horns that were bugging him. He felt like there was something trailing behind him, but he didn't dare look. He didn't want to explore his body anymore, he just wanted to close his eyes and will this nightmare to be over.

But he had to know. He had to see it, he had to know that what he was assuming was correct. He turned his head slightly and let out a horrified gasp when he caught sight of his new appendage. He had been expecting it, but nothing could have prepared him for that.

He had a tail.

He grabbed hold of it and pulled it closer so that he could examine it briefly. It was definitely a tail, there was no doubt about that. A lion's tail to be precise.

He didn't care what kind of tail it was. He let go of it and turned away. He couldn't bare to look at it anymore.

This... This was insane.

Everything about his body felt so real. Maybe... Maybe it wasn't a dream.

He thought about his face. What had happened to his face? How could he want to and not want to know simultaneously? He felt so conflicted. He was scared. He feared the worst.

"Master?" The familiar voice of Lumiere spoke out "Master, are you alright?" He asked, his voice thick with concern.

He looked up, where he assumed Lumiere would be as he was still knelt on the floor, but he wasn't. "Down here, Master." He beckoned him.

He glanced down, and almost jumped back in shock when he saw a small, somewhat human-looking candlestick.

Had he gone mad?

"Master, can you hear me at all?" The candlestick asked. It was definitely Lumiere, he'd know that voice anywhere.

"Lumiere? What happened to you?" He asked. His own voice startled him. It was deeper, gruffer, and there seemed to a growl emitting from his throat. He barely recognised it.

"It was the enchantress, she turned all of the servants into objects, and turned you into-" he stopped himself, refusing to go any further.

He looked around, noticing a clock, feather duster, teapot, teacup, piano, and wardrobe gathered in the far corner of the room. If they were indeed the servants, then why were they still over there? Why was Lumiere the only one who had dared to venture over?

...Were they afraid of him?

That's when he remembered everything that had happened, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The enchantress' voice, whispering in the back of his mind, the words became clear to him. He was taken back to the moment when the transformation was over, when he had collapsed, barely able to remain conscious.

 _Pain rushed through him as he lifted his head to meet eyes with the enchantress. She dropped the rose in front of him, similar to the way he had thrown it back at her when she had the appearance of an old hag._

 _"There is no love in your heart. As punishment, you have been transformed into a beast." She told him. "The rose I offered you is enchanted. Eventually, it will start to wilt, and the petals will fall. If you can learn to love another and earn there love in return before the last petal falls, the spell will be broken. But if not, then you will be doomed to live as a beast forever."_

 _She paused for a moment, the golden light around her starting to fade "I hope for your sake as well as you servants that you will be able to do so." There was a hint of remorse in her voice._

 _"I've cast a spell on your mirror, it will allow you to see everything your heart desires. It will serve as your window to the outside world. I also bestow upon you this enchanted book. It will allow you to go anywhere in the world and truly allow you to escape."_

 _"Why are you doing this?" He croaked out._

 _She didn't answer him "I must leave you now. Good luck, young Prince. May we meet again... Someday."_

 _And just like that, she disappeared, leaving without a trace. Mere moments after that, the strain of the transformation and exhaustion consumed him and he blacked out._

"Master, is there anything I can do for you?" Lumiere asked, snapping him out of his trance.

He lowered his head and clenched his fist. "Bring me a mirror." He replied, in a low, rumbling growl.

"I don't think that's wise, I think you need to take a minute to think and get your head straight." Lumiere responded, his voice trembling a little.

"I told you to bring me a mirror!" He shouted, scaring the candlestick. "Don't make me ask again." He said, in a quieter tone.

Lumiere hesitated for a moment before walking away. He returned not long after, dragging his mirror using his wrists, as his hands had been replaced by candles. He put it down in front of him and backed away, giving him some space.

He reached out and grabbed the handle of the mirror, his large paw covering the entire surface. His arm trembled as he held it up, unsure if he should go through with it. He stared at the back of the mirror, unsure if he wanted to turn it around and see his reflection.

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, calming himself and steadying his arm. In one swift motion, he opened his eyes and flipped the mirror round. What he saw was far worse than he could ever have imagined.

Before the dance, when he had looked in the mirror, the face that he had seen was a young, handsome prince, done up in the finest make up and powdered wig. But the reflection that stared back at him now was that of a monster. A Beast. Brown fur sprouted from every pore on it's face. Sharp, hideous fangs stuck out from it's closed lips. It's nose was flat, with large pink nostrils, similar to that of a buffalo. The only thing he recognised was it's bright blue eyes, that made him fully realise that the monstrous face in the mirror... Was his own.

Beast reached up to touch his face but stopped himself.

Staring at his reflection, he could feel his anger starting to boil over. The monster locked away inside of him rattled in its cage. He snarled, and the image in the mirror took on the form of a crazed animal, his lips curled back to reveal two rows of hideous teeth.

Unleashing his fury, he slammed the mirror against the floor, but surprisingly enough it did not shatter.

Beast attempted to rise, but his feet, or rather paws, slipped on the marble floor. It took a great amount of effort, but eventually, he managed to stand up. He swayed for a moment, as his balance was completely off. His legs threatened to buckle underneath him and his bulky physique. He didn't realise how tall he was now until he stood at his full height.

He glanced down at himself, noticing the shreds of his ballroom attire still clinging to his body. He then looked at Luimere, who was staring up a him with with an expression of pure horror. His oldest friend... Was afraid of him.

Beast turned and ran out of the room. He bounded up stairs, falling onto his front paws on the way up. Instead of correcting himself, he continued to scramble upwards, towards the west wing, to his room. He had to get away. He couldn't let his servants see him like this. He couldn't bare it.

He burst through the door to his room, put himself in an upright position and slammed the door behind him. Breathing heavily, he turned, only to be greeted by his monstrous face, which he could see in the mirror hanging across the room.

He slowly approached the mirror, that gave him a clear view of his head and upper body. The horns that he had traced with his fingers earlier resembled that of a goat, or perhaps an antelope.

He stared at his face once more. There was a look of sorrow in those human eyes. Those same eyes stung, and he quickly blinked back the tears. He turned away from the mirror, only to be greeted by his old face. There was a portrait of him on the wall. The artist had captured his likeness so perfectly.

He stared at his portrait and then back at the mirror. He then looked at the portrait again, at his too-human looking face. Those bright blue eyes stared down at him, mocking him.

He let out an angered cry, that sounded more like a roar as it escaped his lips. He raised his paw and raked his claws across the portrait, taring through the canvas.

He glanced back at the mirror once more, reaching up and taking hold of the remaining pieces of his ballroom attire and ripping it off of his body and throwing it to the ground. Enraged by his appearance, he charged at the mirror, punching it, cracking the surface. Using his claws, he pulled the shards from the frame, piece by piece, until he could no longer see his reflection.

Beast staggered backwards, his anger beginning to subside. He looked over to the balcony, and saw the rose the enchantress had left him, on a pedestal, surrounded by a glass case. She must have put it there, for safe keeping perhaps. Or maybe just to torment him more, as he'd be able to see it from his bed, so he would wake up to that sight every morning. A constant reminder of the curse besides his own body.

He walked up to it and placed his paw on top of the case. He stared at the rose, it's red petals in full bloom. He could already picture them falling off, one by one.

He touched his face, running his fingers down it. He already missed it, his old appearance. He wanted it back more than anything. How would he ever be able to return to his human form? Who could ever love him like this?

Would he ever be human again? Or was he truly doomed to live as a beast... Forever?

He sank to his knees and cradled his head in his paws, ashamed of his appearance. Ashamed of the Beast that he had become.


	2. Chapter 2

Home.

That's how she referred to it. Home. The word seemed foreign to him, especially when using it to describe his castle. For the longest time, whilst being stuck in his beast form, it had felt more like a prison than a home. There was no where else in the world that he could go where he wouldn't be deemed a monster. Even though he was ensuring his safety by remaining there, he still felt trapped, both in his mind and body.

And yet she called it home. His prison, the place where he was constantly reminded of what he was and had no means of escaping it. Her prison, where she was being kept against her will. There was no sugar coating that, even if they had bonded over time. They were both prisoners. But if she thought of it as home in some light then... Maybe he could too.

Beast and Belle found themselves in the Library once more. After being in that cramped attic of the windmill which had been Belle's childhood home, the castle felt even larger than it had before. The attic had been small for him, as he was rather tall and big, in fact he had almost banged his head on the ceiling a few times, not to mention his horns had nearly scrapped against it. He couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for a family of three to live there when he could barely fit inside.

But that didn't matter now. What truly mattered was how Belle felt. Mere moments ago she had learnt of her mother's death, and he wanted to be there to comfort her, in any way he could. He glanced down at her as she removed her hand from the enchanted book and turned her back on him. He saw tears glistening in his eyes as she spun around.

She put her hand to her mouth, to stop herself from choking out a sob. He watched her silently as she trembled and shook. He slowly approached her, taking lite, careful steps, as to not scare her. He lifted his paw and reached out to touch her, but hesitated briefly. Perhaps he should just leave her be? What support could he really offer, what comfort would she be able to find in him when he looked like a monster?

Beast started to lower his arm, but stopped himself and pushed his feelings of doubt to the back of his mind. He gently placed his paw on Belle's shoulder, though he did not realise until he made contact that his paw would cover the majority of it and that his fingers would spill over onto her upper arm, making the whole gesture seem rather sloppy. He cursed his wretched body.

He considered giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, but decided not to, as he feared he would end up digging his claws into her flesh by mistake. "I'm sorry about what happened to your mother." He said in the most comforting voice he could muster with the low growl that erupted from his throat whenever he opened his mouth to speak. "If I had known that you would have seen that, I wouldn't have suggested using the book. I'm sorry you had to find out like that."

Belle sniffled softly and moved her hand away from her mouth. She turned slightly in order to face him, but his paw still remained on her shoulder. "No, I'm glad you showed it to me. I've waited so long to learn the truth about her." She responded. "Thank you for helping me."

Beast gave her a ghost of a smile "...You're welcome" He replied, though he was uncertain if he should be saying that. He wasn't really sure what to say in this situation, he'd never had to comfort anyone before. He hoped that he was coming off as sincere.

She let out a shaky sigh "I just wish I had been able to get to know her... I wish she could have been apart of my life."

"I wish my mother was here too... Maybe if she was things would have turned out differently." He murmured. He thought that the best way to comfort her would be to show her that he understood what she was going through, that she wasn't alone in her suffering. "She died when I was very young. But the servants must have already told you about that." He wasn't assuming, he knew. He hadn't been asleep when they were discussing the curse and his parents a few days earlier, when he had been bedridden.

Belle nodded silently.

"I thought they might have. My personal business isn't exactly private with them."

"They didn't mean any harm by it. They just wanted me to understand why you are the way you are. They all have your best interests in mind, and they all really care about you." She told him.

"I know they do. I'd just prefer it if they wouldn't talk about me like that when I'm in the same room."

"You were awake." She muttered. He assumed that she was remembering the same event he was thinking of.

"No one falls asleep that quickly." He replied wittily.

She smiled at his dry sense of humour, but that smile quickly faded. She was quiet for a moment, like she was holding back on saying something. She avoided making eye contact as she spoke up "How did your mother die?" That was not an easy question to ask.

Beast let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyelids briefly. "She was gravely ill." He replied, opening his eyes once more and looking at her directly "With what I'm not entirely sure. My father refused to go into detail. The less I knew the better, so that I wouldn't kick up a fuss." He explained. He paused for a moment "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Belle gave him a sorrowful look as he continued "I was only a boy when I lost her. She was so fragile, so pale in her final days. I still had hope that she would recover, that she'd pull through somehow. I wanted to be by her side for as long as possible but... My father carted me away before she had passed. He took me to his country estate, away from my mother, away from the servants, isolating me so that he could mould me into the son he wanted me to be. To be just like him."

He left out the detail that he was a prince and that his father had wanted to train him up for the day when he'd eventually become King. One reason for doing so was that he didn't feel much like a prince, not when he was a beast. He didn't think he was worthy of that title, not in the current state he was in. He didn't even think he was worthy of having a name. He was just a Beast.

His other reason was that he couldn't let Belle know who he truly was. If she were to break the curse, which he highly doubted as he had lost hope a long time ago, she would have to love him for who he was, not the idea of falling in love with a prince.

"By the time I returned, she was dead and buried. My father never took me to see her grave. I wasn't even allowed to mourn her death. That showed weakness, something he didn't want me to have. Once we came back here, the servants weren't allowed to speak to me unless it was for trivial things. I had no one to confine in, no one to comfort me. The only person I could talk to was my father, but I couldn't bring up my mother around him. It was almost as if he wanted me to pretend that she never existed. So I had no choice but to do what was expected of me. And after years of being disciplined by my father, being taught how to do everything his way... He got what he wanted. I turned out just like him." He finished.

Beast felt ashamed. He wondered what had happened to that innocent boy that he had once been. Was there anything left of the person he could have been? Or had that person been smothered by his controlling father? He looked down at his paw for a moment and an image of his own monstrous face flashed through his mind. Was this creature the result of everything his father had done? Was this what his father had wanted? Or was he just a failure of a prince, as a human being, as well as a son? He remembered his father calling him a failure countless times, amongst other things. Weak, pathetic... The list was endless. It hurt to think about it.

He was snapped out of his trance when he felt something touch his paw. His bright blue eyes landed on Belle's hand, which was now placed on top of the paw that was still resting on her shoulder. Her touch was soft, comforting. She had touched his paw before, when helping him get to know Philipe, but this... This was different. It was special. He couldn't remember the last time someone had made physical contact with him in this way, even before he had been a beast.

Belle gently ran her thumb along the fur on the back of his paw "Your father sounds like a cruel man. But you... You're nothing like him. He's not here anymore, so what does it matter. You should be allowed to be who you are, not who you're father wanted you to be. You should be allowed to grieve."

Her words touched him on so many levels. She didn't know anything about his father apart from what he had just told her... And yet she made a judgement, she saw something in him, something good, something better than what he thought he was.

"I've had time to grieve. There isn't much else you can do when you're alone in a place like this. I stay out of the servants way as... Well, I'm just a walking reminder of their failures. They feel like they failed me and my mother by allowing my father to do what he did, when there wasn't much they could do anyway. So I've had a lot of time by myself to think about her and make up for all those years when I wasn't allowed to mourn."

He came to the sudden realisation that he had turned the conversation about Belle's mother into a conversation about himself. He had opened up to her and in turn taken away from the time she had needed to think about what she had learned. "I'm so sorry, Belle, I didn't mean to make this conversation all about me, I just wanted to make you feel better and-"

"It's fine." She cut him off "Really, it's fine. It was good not to think about it for a while and- well, this is the first time I've been able to learn a bit about you without having to hear it from someone else."

"Well, if you ever want to talk about your mother then, you can always- if you want to that is-"

"I'll speak to you." She finished his sentence for him.

She moved her hand away from his paw and he removed it from her shoulder. He feared that he had left it there too long, the whole situation felt awkward. Belle turned away for a few seconds, as if there was something else she wanted to say. "Can I ask you something?" She questioned. She didn't seem like she wanted to pry too deeply, and whatever it was she wanted to know must have been a touchy subject.

"Of course." He replied without hesitation.

"You haven't always been a beast, have you?" She asked. "You were human once. How long has it been since the curse was put on you?"

Beast took a minute before he answered. Should he tell her about the man he had once been? He didn't exactly associate himself with that person any more. His life before seemed unreal, a distant memory, he had become detached from it. That young, handsome, selfish, uncaring prince that had once stared back at him in the mirror felt more like a ghost to him now, rather than himself.

"I was human once, yes." He finally answered her. "How much time has passed since then I cannot tell you for certain. There's night and day here, but it's always snowing, so I don't know when the seasons change. If I had to take a guess, I'd say about... Ten years, maybe more. I just know that it's been a very long time."

He hadn't gotten into the habit of keeping track of the days, months, and years that he'd been trapped as a beast. It would only torture him more, as the petals falling from the rose were enough of a ticking time bomb, constantly reminding him of the precision time slipping away before the spell became permanent. Before he was stuck this way forever.

"If you asked me to tell you what I looked like before, I don't think I'd be able to. I suppose I've wilfully forgotten what I used to look like, as it wouldn't do me much good to remember. I've tried to avoid looking at myself, but sometimes that can't be helped. I've caught glimpses of my reflection, of what I look like now... Sometimes I see myself in your eyes."

He quickly realised that he had admitted to staring into her eyes. He scolded himself for being such an idiot. He hoped she wouldn't think about that sentence too hard and continued "I've had long hard looks before too, to try and find some sort of resemblance to my former self but I've never been able to find one, except maybe my eyes. After a while, when I think of myself, the image in my head... Is that of the monster you see before you."

"You're not a monster." Belle stated. She sounded like she meant it.

"I wish that were true but... I am. Sometimes I wonder what my mother would think if she were here now, if she saw me like this. She'd be so disappointed. My father too."

Why did he care what his father thought of him?

"You shouldn't torture yourself about it. I don't exactly know what happened for the enchantress to curse you but... Well, I think the person your father made you into is what got you into this mess."

"I'm not blameless. My father wasn't there that day, he wasn't there for a long time. I could have chosen to be different, I could have chosen to ignore everything he taught me but I didn't. I became something much worse than him and because of that... The enchantress saw everything that was corrupt, and cruel, and twisted about me and changed my appearance to match the ugliness within me." He explained.

"I didn't say it wasn't your fault. But that's in the past now, you're not like that anymore. There's something good and kind within you, I've seen that. You shouldn't hide it and act like the beast that everyone sees you as." Belle replied.

"I've tried, but it's so hard. I can barely remember what it feels like to be human, and when I look like this-" he proceeded to gesture at himself "-I wonder what's the point of trying to be anything else. Because this is all I am, this is what I've become... A beast."

"There's more to you than just being a beast." She responded.

He was touched. She really believed every word that she breathed, and she wanted him to believe it too. Knowing that she could see passed his hideous exterior and could see some good, kind nature hidden beneath all that fur filled him with hope. Maybe there was some truth to what Lumiere had being saying about her being 'the one', though he still hated that phrase.

"You'd be one of the first to think that about me." He admitted.

Belle smiled and reached out to him, taking hold of his large paw in both hands "Come on, I want to show you something." She said, leading him out of the library.

They went at quite a fast pace, almost breaking into a run, as she dragged him over to the ballroom. He knew that Belle had been working on fixing it up a bit, but he was completely awestruck by what he saw as they entered.

The once dark, deserted, run down ballroom had been returned to its former glory. The windows were clean and sparkling, allowing sunlight into the room, giving it a bright, golden glow. The chandeliers were hanging from the ceiling instead of resting on floor. It looked similar to how it had been since he had last laid eyes on it, perhaps even better.

Beast couldn't remember the last time he had been in the ballroom. He had held a sort of animosity towards that place, as it was the room where he had met the enchantress... Where the curse had been placed on him... Where he had been turned into a beast.

But seeing it now, every inch of it glistening in the sunlight, it reminded him of how much he loved to dance, rather than the painful experience he had gone through.

"Do you like it?" She asked curiously.

"Like it?" He questioned. "I love it!" He exclaimed. "It looks incredible. How did you manage to do all of this?"

She chuckled "Well, I had quite a bit of help from the servants."

"Thank you so much for doing this, Belle." He said gratefully. He walked into the centre of the ballroom, spinning round to get a perfect view of the entire space that surrounded him. "It would be a shame for all of your hard work to go to waste." He commented. "What if... What if we have a dance tonight?" He suggested.

He immediately regretted saying that. Why would she want to dance with him? How foolish did he have to be to think that she would ever-

"I'd love to." She replied.

That caught him off guard. "What did you say?" He questioned. He had heard what she said, he just couldn't quite believe it.

"I said I'd love to. It will be fun."

A wave of anxiousness washed over him. He hadn't danced in years. What if he didn't remember how? What if his body wouldn't allow him to? How could he possibly be elegant and graceful on his feet with paws and claws?

He was also worried about Belle. What if he got his claws caught in her hair, or ripped her dress, or stepped on her toes?

He glanced at Belle, and noticed the massive, beaming smile of her face. And for a moment, his worries were pushed to the back of his mind.

He didn't know if he'd be able to pull it off that night, but he was prepared to try. He wanted it to be special. He wanted to be able to see her smile like that again. Seeing her full of joy after being at her lowest... That's all he could ask for.

If he could make her happy, then he could be happy too.


End file.
